


A Man of Honor

by thelittlelion



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Divorce, F/M, Feminist!Aaron Burr, Fix-It, Gen, Mentions of past spousal abuse, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlelion/pseuds/thelittlelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In history, a desperate 23-year-old Maria Reynolds approached Alexander Hamilton, then 36, for help reaching her family. What began as a request for funds then led to a three-year affair that ruined them both.</p><p>Here's a gander at what might have happen should she have chosen a different door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man of Honor

When the knock comes at the door, it’s late enough that Aaron almost expects Hamilton, despite the fact that it has been several months since the up-and-coming attorney darkened his doorstep. Yet, when the door swings open he meets instead the picture of a young woman, wrapped tightly in a red shawl, arms cradled close to her body. When he pauses and she looks up at him, he is confronted with the clash of her provoking red lipstick against her doe-like dark eyes. He hesitates.

“Miss?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you at home,” the woman begins. Her voice is weak. Her eyes, which had remained fixed on Aaron’s face when he first opened the door, now slide to the ground. He is unnerved to see her shoulders begin to shake as she continues, “I – I don’t know where else to go.”

Aaron has seen enough. He opens the door wider. “Please come in. My wife and I were just enjoying a nightcap. Would you care to join us?”

He doesn’t miss the widening of the woman’s eyes when he mentions his wife. Already, she is shaking her head and backing away. 

“I should go,” she says and turns to do just that.

He steps out of the doorway as she steps down the front stairs. “Miss, I am sure that you have come here for a reason. Whatever has pushed your from your bed cannot be so paltry a cause that you would falter in its pursuit at the mere notion of a married man.”

He speaks quietly, but firmly. Aaron has never believed in coddling the fairer sex as so many of his fellow men tend to do. The words catch her halfway down the steps where she pauses, confusion and shame mixing in her face when she turns back to look at him. 

Aaron takes another step outside; then extends his hand. “I am sure you have come a long way. Come inside. “

Slowly, like a deer in the sights of a hunter, the woman placed her hand into Aaron’s, allowing him to guide her up the steps. He leads her inside the doorway and hangs her shall in the front entryway. Thus divested, he takes her further into the sitting room, where Theodosia his wife lounges on one sofa with a novel in one hand and a sleeping baby pressed against her chest with the other. She looks up as they enter the room, placing the book down with an alarmed glance at Aaron.

“My wife, Theodosia, and our daughter, Theodosia,” Aaron introduces, gesturing to each.

“You did not tell me we were expecting company, husband,” Theodosia remarks with just a touch of warning in that last word. Theodosia, like Aaron, does not liked being surprised. No doubt she does not appreciate being caught flat-footed in such a state of homely leisure.

“It was not expected,” Aaron answers. He gestures for Maria to sit, while he himself finds a place by his wife, brushing her ankle in apology as he settles. “In fact, I don’t believe that I have yet heard your name, miss?”

The woman in question is sitting stiffly on the chair, arms once more wrapped around her midsection. She blushes. “Maria Reynolds, sir.”

“Welcome to our home, Mrs. Reynolds,” Theodosia greets cordially, without missing a beat. She takes Aaron’s hand and squeezes it in forgiveness, reassured in whatever she has no doubt managed to read in the woman’s appearance. Then she straightens up, humming as the baby begins to stir. “I hope you will excuse my poor manners, but think I will retire with the little one. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Reynolds. Aaron, don’t stay up too long.”

Mrs. Reynolds murmurs her goodbye as Aaron stands and walks his wife out of the room, kissing her and little Theodosia goodnight in hallway. He gets a sock in the mouth from his daughter, but a soft, proud smile from his wife.

“She looks tired. Don’t push her too hard, Aaron,” she counsels him, before ascending upstairs. Aaron nods in understanding. 

On his way back to his seat, he acquires several leaves of paper and a quill and inkwell from his desk, spreading them on the coffee table as he settles down again. 

“Well, Mrs. Reynolds, it seems you will not have to face my marriage after all,” he quips, smiling a shadow of something left over from his bachelor years. “Would you still like that drink?”

His gentle teasing falls flat. “No, sir,” his guest replies quietly, tension like a wire drawing her shoulder up near her ears. 

“Very well. How about a story? Perhaps the one that ends with you on my doorstop?”

He is attempting to make light, to set the woman at ease, but Mrs. Reynolds only appears more miserable at his tone. Once again glancing to the side, he waits in silence as she appears to gather her thoughts, finally turning her chin up to look him in the eyes. 

“I know you are a man of honor,” she begins. Her tone seems to harbor a secret defiance now and she proceeds to speak quickly. “My husband is not. He is cruel. I know that many other women say so, but it is true. He has been beating me, and not in correction as a husband might if his wife as been wicked. He does it because he is cruel and a drunk, something kept hidden from me throughout our courtship. It began almost at once after our wedding night and has only continued since. I have marks – bruises. I can prove it to you, sir.”

Her hands shake as she reaches for the neckline of her dress. Aaron quickly holds up her hands.

“That will not be necessary.”

Mrs. Reynold’s nods quickly, hands falling back to her lap. “I know that he has slept with other women outside our marriage,” she continues shakily. “He tells me when he comes home drunk. He is almost always drunk. He has also gambled nearly all of our money away, including my dowry. I – “ She hesitates, fire dimming suddenly. “I would not come to you if not for my daughter. My husband has not returned home in a week and I fear that he has left us. Without him we have not the means to go on. I would send for my relations, yet none of them live within the city and I have not the funds to reach them myself. I can see that you see my predicament.”

Aaron nods, hands already scrawling notes across the paper before him. Scratching in his last words, he re-wet his quill. “Yes, quite,” he answers. “Now, if you wrote to your family would they have the means to procure your transportation to their home after the divorce, or would you need additional assistance in returning home?”

Mrs. Reynold’s only stares at him, nonplused. 

“It’s alright, Mrs. Reynolds, there are ways of getting additional funds if the later is the case.”

Mrs. Reynold’s continues to stare at him, before mumbling something lost in her breath.  
He shakes his head. “Could you repeat that?”

“Divorce. You said divorce,” exclaims Mrs. Reynolds, in a louder whisper. 

Aaron frowns. “Yes. Pardon me. I assumed that was what you were seeking when you came here. Was there something else you sought?”

“Money,” whispers Mrs. Reynolds faintly. “I thought I might beg of you the funds to return to my family’s house.”

Placing his quill down, Aaron nods. “If that is what you wish. I am certain I can secure you and daughter’s return with great haste. I apologize if I overstepped my bounds.”

“Overstepped?” Mrs. Reynold’s gaze turns incredulous. “Divorce,” she says again, nearly in singsong to herself. “I didn’t know that was something a woman could do.”

“It certainly isn’t common,” says Aaron diplomatically. “Yet, in some cases women have been able to legally separate from their truly despicable husbands. I believe that your situation fits such a criteria, if you would like to proceed in that direction.”

“I haven’t any money.” 

Here Aaron shrugs. “I’ll accept what you can afford, Mrs. Reynolds. Even if that is nothing at all.”

At last, the woman seems to unthaw. Like ice cracking in the spring, Aaron watches as a truly beautiful smile spread over the woman’s face. In the place of desperation, something like pride begins to lighten her expression.

“Please, Mr. Burr. My name is Maria Lewis.”

Aaron picks up his quill again. “Very well, Ms. Lewis. Where would you like to start?”

**Author's Note:**

> So according to wiki, Maria Reynold's maiden name is Maria Lewis and she married James Reynold when she was 16. That means that she was in an abusive relationship for at least seven years before she reached out for help. Originally, Maria approached Hamilton in Philadelphia and was actually seeking a means to return to her family in New York City. However, since the play takes place in NYC I decided to leave the particulars of their location vague enough to fit both fact and fiction. 
> 
> Also, while wiking my interest was caught on the fact that Maria had a daughter at the time. I don't know how young they were, but I can only imagine that part of the desperation we see in her is the desire we all have to protect our children. 
> 
> In terms of timeline, while on wikipedia, I mistakenly read that Theodosia the Younger was born in 1793, rather than 1783. As Theodosia the Elder died in 1794, that her child was 11 when her mother died. Due to my hiccup, Theodosia is still a baby in this story. As I am already becoming attached the image of both Theodosia's reclining on a couch together (and I rather like having Aaron have his full family around him) we're going to ignore this little factoid. Generally, this fic takes place in 1793, before Theodosia the Elder's decline. 
> 
> I also did not look up how difficult it would be for a woman seeking divorce in the 18th century, but I'm sure it wouldn't exactly be an easy process.
> 
> One last note - if you find yourself in a place where you no longer feel safe with the person you love, please reach out. Often abusive partners try to separate their victims from their family and friends, leaving them, like Maria, feeling isolated and short of options. You can reach the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233.


End file.
